#him wearing that henley did things to me

[limerence4u]

thinking about amnesia eric from season 4… he was so softtt

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[jobean12-blog]

Fancy Restaurant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 2,457

Summary: Nat works her magic and 'accidentally' double books you and Bucky for babysitting. The kids don't want either of you to leave so you end up babysitting together and thanks to some imaginative play the night progresses perfectly.

Author's Note: I definitely took inspiration for this from the Bluey episodes "Fancy Restaurant and Double Babysitter." It just seemed like such a fun idea! Steve and Nat's kids are about the same ages as Bingo and Bluey, 4-5ish and 6-7ish. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: super sweet fluff and fun, Bucky's a little shy at first but by the end he knows exactly what he's doing.

“Almost ready?” Steve asks from the doorway of the bedroom.

Nat turns and smiles. “Just five minutes.”

The doorbell rings.

“We’ll get it!” their two daughters, Lily and Rose, yell simultaneously.

The sound of slapping feet and giggles disappears down the stairs before you hear them scream, “UNCLE BUCKY!”

“My two favorite girls!” Bucky coos as he kneels down to embrace them. “Ready for lots of junk food, scary movies and staying up late!?”

Lily and Rose nod their heads vigorously and don matching grins.

“There will be none of that,” Steve tsks as he walks into the foyer, hands on hips.

“AW DADDY!” Lily whines.

“You’re no fun!” Rose adds.

Steve just scoffs as Nat walks in with a confirming smile.

“I just love it when you all gang up on me,” Steve grumbles.

Nat pats him on the back sympathetically and Bucky chuckles.

“Alright you two. Off you go,” Bucky says. “We’ll be just fine. Have fun!”

Just as Steve is helping Nat into her coat the doorbell rings again. Everyone, but Nat, turns with confused expressions before Steve and Bucky exchange questioning glances.

“Nat?” Steve asks.

She shrugs nonchalantly and opens the door.

“Hey babe,” Nat says as she greets you and holds her arms open.

You smile brightly and rush in to hug her.

It takes you a moment to realize you have an audience and when your eyes lock on Steve’s puzzled face your brows furrow.

The girls momentarily distract you when they start squealing in happiness and tug at your pants in greeting. You kneel down to squeeze them both before asking Nat, “what’s going on? What did I miss?”

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Steve says with a warm smile as he hugs you.

Bucky just stands to the side, his eyes glued to you and his mouth hanging open.

“Nothing!” Nat exclaims excitedly. “Steve and I are leaving.”

“Ok! You two have fu…” you trail off when your eyes land on Bucky.

“Did you double book?” you whisper to Nat.

“Double book?” she repeats, feigning misunderstanding.

Bucky clears his throat and wipes his palm on his jeans before extending his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he says.

You introduce yourself, noticing the way his cheeks turn pink when your skin touches his.

Steve drops his head with a shake then looks to his wife who’s standing there looking smug.

“I didn’t realize you already had a sitter,” you say. “I can go?”

“NO!” Steve, Nat, Bucky and the girls screech.

“You should definitely stay,” Nat says.

“Of course, the girls would be so disappointed if you left,” Steve adds.

“WE WOULD!” Rose says in her sweet voice. “Please stay!”

“YES you have to stay!” Lily pleads. “Now we can play fancy restaurant!”

The two girls squeak with excitement before rushing off with a yell. “We’re going to set it up!” 

Steve and Nat finally get out the door and leave you and Bucky standing there.

“So,” Bucky starts and rubs the back of his neck.

You smile and move toward the kitchen.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” you ask him.

“No,” he sighs while he pats his stomach. “But I’m starving!”

Your gaze falls to his large hand spread across his abs, the soft fabric of his Henley pressing against his muscles and accentuating them.

When your eyes move upward you catch him wearing a smirk and quickly turn your focus to the cabinets for food.

“I’m sure I can find something quick and easy to make,” you assure him.

As you move around the kitchen and pull things from the fridge and cabinets Bucky follows you, offering help where he can and asking you about how you met Nat.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” you ask him.

His eyes wander over your features, lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he blinks and says, “no way. I would definitely have remembered.”

You capture your bottom lip between your teeth and continue mixing the mac and cheese and when you steal a look his way you can see the pink color on his cheeks just above the dark scruff of hair.

A loud crash from the girls playroom alerts you both and Bucky quickly stands.

“I’ll go check on them.”

You finish up the mac and cheese and serve it into two bowls then set them on the table.

He returns just in time.

“They were just trying to set up the table for their restaurant,” he explains.

“I love how imaginative they are,” you muse. “They always come up with fun ideas!”

Bucky agrees before pulling out your chair.

“Thanks for cooking,” he says. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“No problem and great!”

You sit and dig in, enjoying the easy conversation the flows between the two of you.

The girls rush back in the kitchen just after Bucky places the last dish on the drying rack.

“READY!?” Rose asks, her tiny hands clasped together and a chef hat sitting crooked on her head.

The apron she’s wearing is tied haphazardly at her waist and there are several toy utensils sticking out of the pockets.

You and Bucky exchange a smile.

“We’re ready!” you tell the girls.

Lily whispers something in Rose’s ear before Rose rushes off with a giggle.

“That was our chef,” Lily explains. “The restaurant is just this way.”

She holds out her hand and waits for you and Bucky to follow.

“You have to hold hands,” Lily says as she walks you two toward the play room.

Bucky’s eyes go wide and he turns to you.

“Mommy and daddy always hold hands on dates!” Lily exclaims.

You give Bucky a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I definitely don’t!” he says and holds out his hand.

You take it and walk the rest of the way hand in hand.

Lily runs ahead and stands behind a makeshift pile of books, turning over some papers. You and Bucky stop in front of her and she states, “welcome to our fancy restaurant. Do you have a reservation?”

“Ummm,” Bucky starts. “Yeah, two for Barnes,” and he looks at his watch. “Six pm.”

Lily runs her finger down the paper. “I don’t see a Barnes here,” she says.

Bucky looks nervously to you then back at Lily.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Lily sighs. “Did you call to make a reservation?”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “No, I didn’t! Is that bad?”

“YES!” both Lily and Rose yell. “But don’t worry,” Lily continues in a whispered voice, “you can just call now.”

Bucky stands there, clearly unsure of how to handle this and you think quick, reaching with your free hand into the back pocket of his jeans to pull his phone free.

You poke him in the chest with it. “Quick call!” you whisper shout. “I’m hungry!”

The girls giggle and watch Bucky.

“Uh…RIGHT!” he says and pretends to dial his phone.

“Hello, fancy restaurant. How can I help you this evening,” Lily says as she picks up her Minnie Mouse phone.

“Hi,” Bucky answers. “I’d like to make a reservation please.”

“Certainly,” Lily responds. “How many?”

“Two for James Barnes.”

“James?” Rose chimes from behind the play kitchen. “Who’s James?”

Bucky laughs. “That’s my first name but your dad has been calling me Bucky since we’re kids so it kind of stuck.”

Rose shrugs and Lily pretends to scribble something on the paper. “Great,” she says.

She hangs up the phone and repeats her welcome from earlier.

“Barnes for two,” Bucky states.

“Ah yes!” Lily sings. “Right this way.

In all the commotion you and Bucky stopped holding hands and when Lily realizes she stops short and puts her hands on her hips, a mirror image of her father, and gives you both a stern look.

“HANDS!” she shouts.

Bucky reaches over and takes your hand, gently stroking his thumb across your knuckles.

“If I knew I had a date tonight I would have dressed the part,” you lean over and whisper to him.

His lips lift into a boyish smirk. “You look perfect doll.”

Lily pulls his attention away and he misses the way his words make you react.

The table that’s set up is kid size and after Bucky pulls out your chair he sits in his and it makes you nearly fall over with laughter.

“What?” he asks with a grin.

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

Lily and Rose join you tableside.

“Would you like to hear the specials?” Rose asks.

“Sure,” Bucky answers.

“You’re still supposed to be holding hands,” Lily says. “On the table.”

“Oh!” you say and reach your hand across for Bucky’s. “Like this?”

“Perfect!” Lily says with a satisfied smile. “Now Chef Rose. The specials please.”

Rose rattles off a list of random food pairings that have you and Bucky trying not to burst out laughing. You somehow hold it together and place your orders, watching as the girls run off toward their play kitchen.

“This is already the best date I’ve been on,” Bucky says.

“Me too!” you agree. “The service is amazing!”

You say the last part loud enough to make sure the girls can hear it and their excited squeals warm your heart.

“I mean it,” Bucky says. “I’m having a great time.”

After he admits that out loud you can tell he’s slightly embarrassed so you’re quick to assure him you are too.

Lily brings over play plates and utensils and periodically checks in as you wait for your ‘food’ to be prepared.

The ease of your conversation with Bucky makes you feel comfortable and safe and the more you talk to him the more you like him.

Rose joins Lily for the presentation of the food and both you and Bucky are impressed with the spread.

“Wow this looks delicious!” he says eagerly.

The girls look pleased and excuse themselves in a flurry of fancy bows and unintelligible mutterings.

You and Bucky pretend to eat the food, laughing and sharing stories. Lily sneaks over and whispers, “don’t forget to feed each other!”

She tip toes away and you can feel her staring.

“She’s watching and waiting isn’t she?” you ask Bucky.

He subtly nods and pretends to scoop his spaghetti. He holds up the small fork and you laugh again, the pink plastic tiny in his hand.

You lean forward and he meets you half way, pretending to feed you a bite. A cheer erupts from behind you and the girls yell, “again!”

After sharing more bites and a special ‘fancy’ dessert Lily and Rose present Bucky with the bill.

“Hope you enjoyed your meal doll,” he says to you. “I know I did!”

“It was delicious!” you exclaim. “We definitely have to come back!”

Lily escorts you toward the door of the play room, instructing you once again to hold hands and bids you farewell.

While you and Bucky are strolling down the hall you hear the girls whispering to each other and Bucky squeezes your hand.

“I don’t think the date’s over,” he mutters.

You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Rose skips over and stops in front of you and Bucky so you have to stop walking.

“Time for a smoochy kiss!” she says happily.

“YES! YES! Smoochy kiss time!” Lily sings.

Bucky looks down at the two girls and kneels so he’s eye level.

“Aw girls,” he says, “I’m not sure we can do that.”

“But” Rose says, her eyes big and shining. “Daddy and Mommy always smoochy kiss!”

You tug on Bucky’s shoulder and he stands again. You smile at the girls and lean up to press your lips to his cheek.

“There,” you say. “How’s that?”

Two sets of pouty lips turn to you and their tiny voices say in unison, “that’s a cheeky kiss! Not a smoochy kiss!”

Bucky wraps his fingers around your biceps and studies your face.

“Maybe if I give you one?” he says, his tone questioning.

You nod and wait for the press of his lips to your skin, closing your eyes briefly and opening them to find him staring at your lips.

The girls stomp and whimper, clearly not satisfied.

“Might as well give them what they want,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer to him.

His right hand slides up your arm and grazes the curve of your neck before he cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb at the corner of your mouth.

He dips his head as his metal hand slides around your waist and splays across your lower back. His dark eyelashes lower and he moves closer. Your fingers grasp at his Henley and you give him a little tug.

“Bucky, you can kiss me now.”

He nods lightly and his nose bumps yours, his lips hovering so close you can feel his warm breath.

“I hope I can keep this PG,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours.

Your hands glide up to his shoulders and then to the back of his neck, fingernails gently scraping along his hair when he pulls you so close there isn’t a breath of space left between you.

The sounds of the girls screeching and screaming finally pulls you out of the kiss and you bury your face in his neck.

“THAT…” Rose starts with sparkling eyes, “was the best smoochy kiss EVER!!!”

“Can you do it again?” Lily asks, dancing in place.

You giggle and peck Bucky on the lips.

“Girls it’s just about time for bath and bed,” you tell them.

“Aww but we want to keep playing fancy restaurant,” Rose whines.

“I know. But we can play in the bath and then I’ll read you a bedtime story! Any one you want!”

The two girls beam up at you and then look at Bucky.

“You’ll play too Uncle Bucky, right?” Rose asks.

“Of course!” he says. “But first you two have to clean up.”

They groan but agree with shuffling feet and head back to the play room.

You watch them go until you feel Bucky’s eyes on you. When you turn to face him he grabs your hand and pulls you around the hallway and presses you against the wall.

“One more smoochy kiss?” he asks.

“Yes,” you murmur and meet his lips in a soft kiss.

“They’re smoochy kissing again!” Rose squeals!

“They do it way better than mommy and daddy!” Lily giggles. “I can’t wait to tell them!”

“We’re never gonna hear the end of this doll,” Bucky winks.

“I think this is exactly what they wanted,” you whisper.

“You’re exactly what I want,” he says before kissing you again. “And I plan on getting as many kisses as possible after those two go to bed.”

@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants. 

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked… 

Wow. 

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks. 

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol. 

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y���oh!” 

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell. 

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge. 

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up. 

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration. 

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird. 

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.” 

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other. 

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty. 

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row. 

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.” 

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day. 

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble. 

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—" 

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt. 

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head. 

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill. 

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.” 

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.” 

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you. 

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.  

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out. 

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face. 

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you. 

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job. 

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk. 

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

[cevansbrat0007]

Forget-Me-Not

Summary: Ari forgets to do something important before leaving out the door...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Fluff, Implied Smut, Kisses, Chocolate Covered Strawberries, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You’re currently standing at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of freshly melted chocolate. For some reason, you’d awoken this morning with a craving for chocolate dipped strawberries. So, instead of paying an arm and a leg to buy them from some fancy shop, you’d simply decided to make your own. 

Humming under your breath, you’re surprised when you hear your front door open and shut. A quick glance at the clock suggests that it’s much too early for Ari to home for good just yet. More likely he’d probably forgotten something. 

Turning off the heat, you move to pour it into a bowl. Next up was your favorite part – turning your favorite fruit into a delicious confection. You run your finger along the spoon, wincing as the still-too-hot treat burns your skin.

But you don’t care. Not when it tastes so good. So good, that you can’t help the satisfied moan that escapes your throat. 

“Is it really that good, sweetheart?” 

“Mm.” You purr before helping yourself to another taste, this time using your tongue now that things have cooled a little more. “It really is.” 

Grinning, you take a moment to get a good look at your man. He’d been a man on a mission this morning, rushing out the door before you were barely awake and alert. And while you weren’t quite sure what business it was that had him moving so quickly, you were pretty certain that he’d tell you at dinner.

“You in the mood to share?” Ari rasps as he leans against the wall, looking exceptionally sexy in his dark blue Levi’s and black henley. You find yourself slightly disappointed that he’s not rocking one of his signature flannels. 

Mostly because you liked to steal them. But to be fair, your sweet Beast also never seemed to complain when he caught you wearing one. He mostly just sighed and grumbled about his diminishing wardrobe. 

Which was fine by you, considering the fact that he was the sole reason your entire panty drawer had been reduced to next to nothing. Those flannels were owed to you by right! 

“Just what are you doin’ back so early?” You ask, holding the spoon out to him. “I didn’t expect to see you until dinner.”

“Forgot to do somethin’.” He rasps as he moves towards you, his long, powerful legs bridging the distance between your bodies in mere seconds. “Somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Guess you were right. The man had been moving so fast this morning that he’d likely left behind an important file or notepad. “I don’t recall seeing anything on the table, but���”

“That ain’t what I forgot, little Bird.”

Now he’s standing in front of you, his work boots almost brushing your bare toes. You’re caught off guard when Ari moves to tenderly cup his cheek, his roughened palm warming your delicate skin. 

“What…what did you forget?” Confused, you move to offer him the spoon in your hand, only to be surprised when he declines. You watch as his normally brilliant blue eyes darken as they stray to your waiting mouth. Your heart speeds up when his head descends, making his intentions all the more clear.

“Something much, much sweeter.”  

Squealing in surprise, you can’t help when your eyes flutter closed as his sinful lips capture your own. The kiss starts off soft and sweet, that is, until you feel Ari’s free hand make its way down your lower back so that he can grab a handful of your ass, pulling you closer to his big body.

You feel his tongue sweep against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open. To respond in the way you so desperately know he wants. Rising on your toes, you eagerly grant him access, wanting him to know that you were feeling just as hungry and wanting as he felt for you.

Feeling emboldened, Ari lifts you off your feet, prompting you to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Your fingers find their way into his hair, lightly tugging at his already tousled locks. Meanwhile both of his impatient hands busy themselves with kneading and squeezing your curves as he rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel the weight of his already impressive erection.

It makes you want him here. Now. So you can't help but feel disappointed when he slowly eases away, leaving you wet and needy.

“Fuck." He promises now that he's finally allows you up for air. "Promise I won’t forget to do that again.”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, your legs wobbling slightly the moment he releases his hold, lightly setting you down. It doesn’t help when he leans in once again to gently brush his lips against your temple. And his satisfied grin has you giggling as your head falls to rest against his broad chest. 

“Tell me what I interrupted here, baby.”

“I was making chocolate covered strawberries.” Nuzzling your nose against the fabric of his shirt, you continue. “I woke up with a taste for them, so…” You offer up a small shrug. “I decided to make some.”

“Well, that’s funny. On account of I woke up with a taste for you.” You feel his big palm come to rest on your head, stroking a path along your silky curls. “And these are about to make the proceedings even better.” 

You can’t help but feel a little dizzy when he pulls away. His teasing words were filling you with all kinds of spicy ideas.

“I’ve gotta run.” Ari tells you. “I only came back to rectify my mistake. But I want you to save some of these for tonight…” He glances down at your now cold bowl of chocolate. “Because I have plans to enjoy my little Bird for dessert before I even think about dinner.”

Reaching around you, he snags a ripe berry and lifts it to your mouth. His eyes never leave yours as he watches you bite down on the plump fruit, its juice lightly dripping down your chin. Groaning low in his throat, Ari leans in once more, lapping up the sweet trail with his tongue. 

“And Bird?” He calls as he turns to walk away, confidently striding towards the front door.

“Y-yeah?” Dear God, this man was going to be the death of you.

“No panties, alright? I don’t want anything between me and my strawberry delight.”

Fucking Beast.

END

Official Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

@gh0stgurl

@blogbog710

@sincerelytlh

@patzammit

@curls-and-eyeliner

[reginamillls]

just something I wrote after seeing the pics of THAT gladiator costume

have some bucktommy + halloween/domestic thing

***

When Tommy comes in he notes a pair of white sneakers at his door and hears the TV on, playing a documnetary about deep ocean creatures. And he feels lighter despite just coming off of a 48.

Coming home to someone waiting for him, gives him energy it seems.

The only thing Tommy can see from his entrance looking into his living room is a pair of socked feet hanging off one end of his love seat with an apple flying up into the air and back down and Tommy walks into the kitchen to get dinner started.

"I'm thinking maybe we could do something classic," Is what Tommy gets as a greeting. "Maybe movie monsters that go together. A vampire and a werewolf."

"Hello Tommy, it's nice to see you Tommy, how was your shift?" Tommy playfully mocks from the kitchen, leaning against the counter. That gets a huff of laughter and soon Evan is sitting up, revealing messy curls and a sheepish smile.

"Hey babe," Evan says as he turns to face Tommy then, and taking a bite of his apple. "How was work?"

"It was fine," Tommy answers and he steps into the living room and bends down, kissing Evan sweetly in greeting. He tastes a little bit like the apple he was eating and Tommy can't help but smile against his lips. He'd been nervous giving Evan a key to his house, but those nerves were chased away by the reality of getting to come home to see Evan relaxed on his couch, wearing a worn sweatshirt with a hole at the collar and looking like he belongs in Tommy's space. "So there's costumes?"

"Work is throwing a thing," Evan says. "And I thought, maybe we could dress up?" He asks then adds. "I saw you had off on your calendar."

"I wouldn't be opposed," Tommy says. "I don't know about a werewolf and a vampire though. It gives me Twilight."

Evan gives him a blank look and Tommy huffs. "One of these days we are going to get you to watch those movies. I'll get Howie to join me."

"Maybe we could be a cowboy and a gladiator," Evan suggests, ignoring the Twilight comment. "I still have my hat from my ranch days-"

"So I'm the gladiator then?" Tommy cocks an eyebrow, amused. "How come you've seen Night at the Musuem and not Twilight?"

"It's a movie about a museum coming alive at night," Evan counters. "That's awesome."

"Fair," Tommy agrees and he rests his hands on Evan's shoulders and begins to massage them. " So a couples' costume? I'm guessing ketchup and mustard wouldn't work?"

"If you want to be boring." Evan huffs and then lets out an appreciative moan when Tommy digs his thumb into one of the knots in Evan's muscles.

"How about something we both know?" Tommy suggests. "Star Wars?"

"You can - oh that's the spot," Evan says shifting on the couch again. "You can be Han and I can be Luke."

"Why do you get the lightsaber?" Tommy asks, teasing.

"Because you're the pilot," Evan says. "And the vest would look great on your chest." He adds, tilting his head up and reaching an arm to pat Tommy on said chest. "Plus you have several white henleys."

Tommy huffs out a laugh at that and moves his hands up to Evan's neck, causing the other man to drop his hand and lean into Tommy's massage, his eyes shuttering close.

"Are you going as blue lightsaber Luke or green?" Tommy asks and Evan hums under his hand, thinking about it.

"Green," He says. "Luke looked good in that black outfit."

"He did," Tommy agrees, remembering a younger version of himself who had been very into Luke Skywalker and the hopeful way he looked at life.

He's always had a type.

"I was more into Han myself," Evan says and he opens up his eyes and takes one of Tommy's hands and kisses his knuckles. "I guess I have a thing for pilots."

And what can Tommy do but not lean over the couch and kiss Evan properly?

Their costumes can wait till later.

So can dinner.

[paceprompting]

Countdown to '86

written for ‘midnight’ and ‘confession’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, getting together, steve has a crush on eddie, eddie finally gets a clue

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

Part One Part Two Part Three

Eddie had decided not to go to the New Year’s party.

Really.

He and Wayne had finally saved enough to get the van fixed. There was no reason to not spend one night with his uncle by going to a party at Steve’s Harrington house instead.

The jacket sat in its pristine Bloomingdale’s box on his desk, taunting him.

He had no idea whether or not it fit, or if he would have a miraculous allergic reaction and could honestly never wear it.

There was (unfortunately) only one way to find out.

He had a floor-length mirror in his room, and he stared at himself in the black denim jacket that Steve Harrington had given to him as a Christmas present.

It fit. Perfectly.

Not too tight at the shoulders. Simple design, easily alterable to Eddie’s aesthetic.

Why the hell had Steve given this to him?

He could wait until after winter break to find out. Corner Steve in the parking lot and demand an explanation. But that was another week where Eddie would have to stare at the jacket and tear his hair out over the questions.

Eddie wasn’t going to go to the New Year’s party.

But he had no other choice.

Having made a decision, Eddie didn’t remove the jacket before he drove off toward the Harrington house. He didn’t bother parking a block away, setting up right in front.

He didn’t have his lunchbox, so anyone sober enough would realize that Eddie was horribly out of place. Hopefully, his stride was quick enough that he could get in, get some answers, and then get the hell out.

Finding Steve was easy.

Eddie nearly smacked him with the front door, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the floor. Steve didn’t miss a beat, avoiding the door with a move Eddie recognized from gym.

“Hey,” he said, eyes quickly traveling over Eddie. He smiled when he noticed the jacket. “You wore it. Fit okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie glanced at the crowd, already getting bumped into two feet into the house. He shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “We need to have a discussion.”

If Steve was surprised, he only gave it away with a single blink. Otherwise, he took the request in stride, tilting his head toward the staircase.

“Upstairs?”

Eddie nodded quickly, not bothering to wait for Steve before he shouldered through the crowd and made a beeline for the (somehow) familiar space of Steve’s bedroom. He kept his back to the door until Steve closed it behind them, muffling Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.  

Eddie turned and came right out with it.

“You gave me a present.”

It wasn’t the smoothest start to a conversation, since Steve only furrowed his brows at what Eddie has basically phrased as an accusation.

Eddie swallowed. Tried again.

“You gave me a ride. We hung out at the mall. And you got me…a present.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Steve agreed plainly, standing in the low light of his bedroom in his dark blue Henley and jeans.

“Why?”

“I—” Steve wavered, setting his drink on his dresser.

Eddie scoffed. “Seriously, Harrington, this is really involved if you’re just going to fuck with me. I’d rather you just came out with it.”

Steve took a long breath, his eyes downcast to the floor.

His voice, when he spoke, was barely loud enough over the sound downstairs.

“Are you going to believe me if I said I wanted to do all those things?”

“No,” Eddie said.

It was the truth. Mostly.

Steve looked at him from under his lashes, with a strange determination that contradicted the whole conversation.

“Could I prove it to you?”

Eddie found himself nodding.

And then Steve crossed the room, his warm hand sliding along Eddie’s jaw to tilt his head up to meet the soft press of his lips.

And things made…a little more sense.

Eddie inhaled through his nose, but Steve didn’t push. He moved their mouths once to make the kiss last that much longer, and then pulled back, his hand still on Eddie’s face.

It was certainly proof.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Later, if asked, he would have chocked it up to his brain severely malfunctioning from the whole being-kissed-by-Steve-Harrington thing. Otherwise, he would not have still been standing so close to him.

“What?” Steve asked.

“How much longer until midnight?”

Steve shook his head slightly, glancing over Eddie’s shoulder toward his bed. Maybe to an alarm clock.

“Few minutes,” he answered.

Eddie could work with that.

“So,” he wet his lips. Steve glanced at it, unable to hide that he’d done so. “This all start in the car?”

“No.”

“The mall?”

Steve chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest where Eddie was pressed against him. “Lunch. I don’t really remember which one.” He got this look on his face. Eddie nearly called it fond. “You’re hard to miss.”

“Pretty sure most people would prefer I cracked my head on floor during those.”

Eddie tried for dismissive, but Steve easily sidestepped.

“You’re so…free. Defiant,” Steve continued, his thumb dragging across Eddie’s cheek. He’d nearly forgotten it was there. “So different than I am. Better.”

How that led to standing in Steve’s bedroom, seriously considering having Steve’s mouth on his again, he had no idea.

Eddie didn’t have to ask for the time. The crowd downstairs had started the countdown.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

He’d said it before. People like Steve and people like Eddie didn’t…mesh.

“Just you,” Steve answered, biting his bottom lip. “If you’d like to, I mean.”

For weeks, Eddie had been blind. And it went against every part of him he’d thought was set in stone, what had gotten him through years of bullshit. Every part determined to say that boys like Steve did not want boys like Eddie.

“Damn it, Harrington,” he said, as the crowd cheered the last second of a passing year and Eddie pressed his mouth hard to Steve’s.

Part Five

Tag list: @here4thetrama @tillystealeaves @th30ra3k3n @fairytalesreality @rabidhungryrat

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Love Of My Life

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1675

Summary: When Bucky walks out of your life unexpectedly without a word from him you're left with a broken heart. Three months later he returns, do you forgive him or let him go?

Warnings: angst, begging for forgiveness, happy ending.

Prompt: an old flame rekindled, Theme: Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Inspired by Queen’s “Love of My Life” song

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog for reading this for me. All mistakes are my own. Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the lovely moodboard & @whimsicalrogers for my divider.

A/N 2: this was written for the Winds of Autumn Challenge @the-slumberparty

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been three months since Bucky walked out of your life. One day you were a happy, loving couple and the next day Bucky came home from a mission as a changed man. He was anxious, short-tempered, and kept his feelings to himself. He wasn’t the man you fell for all those years ago. When you tried to get him to talk to you he would tell you to “leave it alone.” Then when you didn’t he would storm out the door and not return until you were already in bed. One day he stormed out the door after a fight and he never returned. The love of your life had just hurt you. He swore he would never break your heart yet you stood in your house alone.

It took weeks to figure out what you did wrong. Did you say something wrong or push him too much? But after time went by you figured out it must be him and not you. Something must have spooked him on the mission that rattled him to his core. Whatever it was it must have been something big as nothing seemed to scare Bucky, except his past with Hydra.

Now here you were all alone and trying to pick up the pieces. Since Bucky left abruptly all his things were still scattered across the house and in closets. Maybe one day he would come back, you told yourself. You tried to convince yourself. But for now, you need to try and heal.

So now, three months after he left you to pick up the pieces you got a knock on your front door from an unexpected visitor. You open the door and find Bucky standing at your front door. You were shocked to see him standing there in his jeans, henley, leather jacket, and biker boots. He smirked when he saw you wearing one of his henley shirts and leggings. You didn’t know what to say to him as he looked you over.

“Sweetheart, I know this is a shock but I was wondering if I could come in and talk with you.”

Tears started to gather in your eyes at his words. You turned around leaving the door open for him and headed to the living room. You heard the door close and then his footsteps heading toward you. What did he have to say after three months of being a part? You had to admit you were curious. But the other part of you was angry with him. How dare he show up asking to talk with you when he couldn’t give you the time of day when he left.

You sat on the couch and Bucky joined you on the other side. He watched as you refused to look him in the eye. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to and watched as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“So, what brings you back after all this time?” You asked.

“I’ve missed you for one thing.” He states as you roll your eyes at him.

“Seriously I have.” He continues. “I knew the day I left was the biggest mistake of my life but I needed help. That mission shook me to my core and I wasn’t the same person when I returned. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, we would never be together again.”

“You knew it was a mistake to leave and yet you still left. What the hell Bucky I could have helped you if you would’ve just asked me. That’s what a relationship is all about. When one of us is down or struggling the other picks us up. But instead of doing that, you left for three months!”

Your anger was starting to show its ugly face as you couldn’t understand why he thought leaving was a good thing. None of this made sense to you.

“Doll, let me start from the beginning so you might understand. Okay?” He looked at you with pleading eyes as if begging for a chance to be heard.

“That’s fine Bucky.” You softly answer, your hands fidgeting in your lap afraid of what he might say.

“The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, get the information we need, and wipe the server. Things seemed to be going to plan until over the speaker system I heard the winter soldier trigger words. At first, they didn’t bother me but as they continued I started getting a headache and flashbacks. The words were spoken over and over again until I was finally able to escape. When I got back for debriefing I was still feeling off like something was trying to escape my mind. Then when we went over all the information I had downloaded it had a file called ‘The Winter Soldier reprogramming’ on it. The file showed different strategies on how to bring me back under control by Hydra. It scared me as I’m so afraid to go back under. When I came home I was on edge dreading any minute I could turn on you. So I decided it was best for me to go back to Wakanda to run tests to make sure I never become the soldat again. I left this all in the letter I left you.”

You could understand to an extent why he did what he did but your frustration got the best of you and what did he mean ‘a letter’?

“But why not tell me this in person instead of running away? You should have been honest with me. Instead, you left me brokenhearted and trying to pick up the broken pieces after you left. What letter are you even talking about? I got no letter from you.”

Bucky moves a little closer to you and looks into your eyes. “You’re right, I should have been honest with you in person. But doll, I left you a letter on your nightside table explaining everything. I’m sorry I broke your heart for leaving the way I did. I will do anything and everything to win your trust back. I promise I’m never leaving you like that again. What can I do to prove to you that I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know Bucky…” Your eyes cast downward as you try to figure out what you want to do.

“Doll, please. I’m begging for your forgiveness and a way back to your heart.” Bucky drops to his knees in front of you, grasping your hands like they are a lifeline. He could see you were still hurt and contemplating his words.

You needed to find that letter to see if he was lying to you. Even though your heart was telling you he was being truthful, your mind was spinning a web of deception.

“Bucky, I need a minute to myself.” You stood from the couch looking down at Bucky and offered a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

You left Bucky in the living room and headed to your shared bedroom. Inside the room you walked to your side of the bed where a table sat. Bending down you looked under the bed and under the table. There was no letter. Pulling the table away from the wall you looked down and there was an envelope. Turning it over in your hands you saw his hand writing with your name on the envelope. Opening the envelope you pull out a letter and your heart sinks.

To my sweetheart,

I’m sorry that I’ve been hard to be around lately. I know my mood has been up and down since I came home from my last mission. The problem is during the mission Hydra tried to use the trigger words on me. It’s causing my mind to question whether or not they worked as my PTSD has been kicking up again and I can’t get this headache to go away. With that said, I'm heading to Wakanda to see if Shuri and Ayo can help me again. The last thing I want to do is hurt you so I must take some time away from you. I promise that I will come back to you. Wait for me.

Forever Yours,

J.B.B.

You sit on the bed and start to cry. He was right, it was all in the letter. How could you be so stupid thinking that he would just leave you without a word. You should have known better. Bucky was your everything.

You hear Bucky walk into the room and feel the bed dip as he sits next to you. Turning into his chest you cried. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

“It’s okay, doll. I gotcha. I promise it will be okay.”

“Bucky…I’m so sorry for thinking the worst of you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have just left me. Please forgive me.”

Bucky pulls you gently away from him as he takes in your teary eyes and wobbly lip. His flesh hand slowly wipes the tears from your face and he gives a soft smile.

“If anyone should be sorry it’s me. I should have just told you my plan instead of writing it. I caused the pain you’ve been feeling for the last three months. I promise I will take every second of every day to make it up to you. Just give me the chance to do that, doll.”

“I will, Buck. We will work this out. I love you so much.” Your hand runs through his hair and Bucky briefly closes his eyes as he shivers from the feeling.

Opening his eyes again his shining blue eyes stare at you. “I love you too, doll.” Bucky pulls you in for a kiss and puts all his feelings behind it.

Looking back at it you’re happy you made it. You rekindled your feelings for one another and proved to the other that each was unwilling to let the other go anytime soon without a fight. Never did you go through something like this again as you always communicated openly.

Taglist

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@b3autyfuld1sast3r

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@kmc1989

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@obsessedwithcevans

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@sarahowritesostucky

@shadowrose13-blog1

@spectre-posts

@steviebbboi

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

@yenzys-lucky-charm

@casa-boiardi

@s-a-v-a-n-a-34

@floralwsloki

@ozwriterchick

@kmc1989

@hedwig394

@tdbooth

@learisa

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main Previous | Masterpost Note: So I was planning on sitting on this until I was about done with part 3, but then @yeetyeetedyote, who tumblr doesn't allow me to tag, did a meme for part 1 and I couldn't help but post it. So hope you enjoy. Jason did not know what to wear. It was Red Hood who had a date, but going in his full uniform seemed very excessive somehow. But there was also no way he was going unarmed. He pondered his closet with a frown. What clothing did he even own that were suitable for a date? He’d never had to ponder this before. What level of formality was expected? Probably not formal, considering there would be no dinner. Also he was Red Hood, there was no way he’d do formal, he had an aesthetic.

He finally settled on jeans, a red henley and the brown leather jacket he used as Red Hood. He held up the jacket and inspected it critically for blood spatters, that at least he felt certain wasn’t appropriate.

One hour later saw Red Hood rolling up to the curb in front of the building. Only one person was leaning against the brick wall there, absorbed in their phone; it had to be Danny. The rest of the people there were just walking past. It was Crime Alley, Red Hood barely got a glance of interest. Gotta love Gothamites.

Jason had not been able to really get good visual on Danny in the dark, aside from the fact that he was rather short and had dark hair, the night vision in his helmet could only do so much. He had not been prepared for how he looked up and the wide blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Nor the way the button down shirt and the jeans hugged close to broad shoulders and slim waist in a way the hoodie he’d worn previously had clearly not.

Somehow in all his musings about how this would go Jason had never considered the possibility that Danny would be hot.

“Hi,” Danny said still smiling as he came up to him. He raised his arms out from his sides a bit helplessly before letting them fall back. “So how do you want me?”

Jason’s brain screeched to a halt as those words brought a decidedly not appropriate image to his head. He was so glad he was wearing his helmet right now. Jason must have stiffened or given away his embarrassment some other way, because Danny’s cheeks flushed as he too realized how his question could have been understood.

“I meant on your bike.”Jason hunched over, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Because that was not helping at all.

Wordlessly Jason held out the extra helmet. Danny took it gratefully and stuffed it over his red face.

“Front.” Jason said over the radio connection between the helmets.

Jason had to give Danny a hand to get him situated in front. He had to hold on near the center of handlebars and he didn’t really have good place to place his feet and had to hold them curled up.

It was neither safe nor legal, but Jason was not about to have a potential assassin at his back and besides who was gonna arrest Red Hood for traffic violations? The small hitched gasp when Jason curled around Danny’s back to reach the handlebars had his lips quirking up, and he might have pressed him just a bit further forward just for that.

“Where to?”

“Sommerset.”Jason raised an eyebrow at that as he kicked off the curb. Carefully, as he got a feeling for the different weight distribution, he drove them in the direction of the Trigate Bridge.

“If a tour of Old Arkham is your idea of a date, I think I’m gonna have to shoot you.”

Danny scoffed.

“I promised you fun, didn’t I?”

At Jason’s lack of response, he slumped further.

“There’s a traveling carnival on the fair grounds at the edge of town.”

“Huh.” Jason was trying to think of a time he’d actually visited a carnival as a visitor and not a vigilante to stop some villain plot. He was coming up short. There was a feeling in his chest he had a hard time identifying, an uncertain thing, but it wasn’t bad. If nothing else he was gonna have an experience? Oo o oO

They parked the bike in the attached gravel parking lot near the fair grounds. Jason had to step off the bike first and then promptly had to catch Danny as his legs refused to carry him when he stepped off the bike.

“Oh wow, my legs fell asleep there.” He laughed and stepped away on wobbly legs as he pulled the helmet off. He handed it to Jason who put it into its compartment.

He took another wobbly step forward and Jason couldn’t help the way he reached for him to steady him. Instead Danny grabbed his hand firmly. Jason was baffled at the action looking from Danny to their hands, uncertain how to react, but Danny just smiled and changed his hold so their fingers were twined together.

He looked mightily satisfied about it too as he tugged Jason forward toward the fair grounds. A fair bit of the rides were visible because of their heights and Jason could easily imagine how the place would light up with multicolored lights once evening came.

Once they entered the fair grounds they drew quite a lot of attention. Lots of people stopped and pointed at Red Hood and his companion. Phones were pointed in their direction and Jason found himself tensing.

Danny leaned closer and spoke lowly, “Don’t worry, nobody will believe them. Regular digital cameras are odd around me, so they won’t get usable footage.”

Jason’s mind raced, what did that mean? Did he have some sort of jammer? Was it a meta ability? Was it related to his ability to sneak up on vigilantes on Gotham rooftops?

“And,” Danny continued, “if anyone asks, we can always say you’re a cosplayer.”

Jason grimaced. Danny slapped his chest as if he could see right through the mask.

“Hey! Cosplay is a great creative hobby.”

“That’s not- I’m a former crime lord. I don’t understand why anyone would dress up as me.”

“Pffft, don’t sell yourself short. Also you have a cool recognizable thing going on with the helmet. It will be especially funny if someone critiques it for not being accurate.”

Jason couldn’t help his chuckle at how gleeful Danny looked at the prospect.

“This is the real reason you want me to claim I’m cosplaying?”

“It would be so funny, admit it!”

Jason huffed. It would be pretty funny.

“Ha! I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, time to show off some of those shooting skills and win me a plushie.” With that statement Danny pointed towards a game booth with truly ridiculously large unicorn plushies hanging from it and tugged Jason forward. It was only at that moment he remembered they were still holding hands. It was…

It was nice.

Danny glanced back at him and he was smiling, warm and excited. Jason didn’t remember the last time someone had smiled that much at him. Jason found himself smiling back, and he was suddenly grateful he couldn’t be seen behind the helmet.

The shooting booth operator eyed Red Hood warily until Danny broke the tension in a voice that carried, “my friend’s cosplay is pretty awesome right?”

The operator’s shoulders fell and he chuckled, “pretty brave of him to wear that this close to Gotham proper.”

“Sure is! But not to worry if there’s any trouble I will protect him,” Danny said seriously, with a glance and a wink at Jason.

The man took in Danny’s skinny and less than imposing appearance and burst out laughing, and just like that any remaining tension was gone.

The operator explained the game. There were different tiers with bottles lined up on shelves and flat rings of different widths balancing on top. You got points if you knocked the ring down over the bottle neck. The slimmer rings offered more points.

It was a pretty simple game.

Danny put down cash for the game and looked at Jason expectantly. “Show us some of that Red Hood skill.”

The operator chuckled. Jason rolled his eyes and stepped up.

Immediately, as he picked up the air gun it felt clunky in his hand. It was sharp-edged where it should be smooth and was weighted all wrong especially with the pressure cable attached to it, but that was not going to stop him. He loaded it with one of the five cork stoppers the operator handed him. He seemed to be enjoying Danny’s teasing as much as Danny himself.

Out the corner of his vision he saw Danny lean forward expectantly as he took aim.

He pulled the trigger.

The cork stopper was ejected with a loud pop and promptly hit the edge of a shelf bouncing backwards to land on the floor where it rolled around three times before stopping.

Danny looked at him wide eyed before bursting out in helpless snickers. Jason shoved him in revenge, but he couldn’t help smiling. There was just something refreshing about how despite knowing he was the real Red Hood he was so completely unafraid of him. Not even his family was that relaxed around him.

He didn’t want to bring his mood down contemplating that, so he reloaded the clunky gun and took aim again. He considered the points on the rings and the available prize tiers. Four shots left, with a bit of luck he could still do decently.

Aiming higher and slightly more to the right of how he would aim a real gun he shot the first maximum point ring down around the bottle neck. Three more fell in rapid succession.

Danny cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“That’s four hundred points, that gives you the choice of a large prize,” the operator said impressed.

He pointed at a large unicorn plush, it wasn’t quite the extra large ones that hung on the outside of the stall, those required cumulative points from at least two games, but it was still a very decent size.

Danny was the very opposite of disappointed when Jason handed it over. He squished it in his arms and absolutely beamed up at Jason. Jason looked away, embarrassed for feeling so satisfied and warm just for winning a silly game.

The operator snorted giving them a knowing look. “Have a nice evening boys.”

“You too,” Danny replied, sidling up close and entwining their fingers again as he pulled them away and off towards the various rides.

Jason eyed their once more joined hands in bemusement, not really sure what to think, but he’d already allowed it once. It sold the appearance of a date, made it all the more likely to the bystanders that Jason was just some cosplayer with a death wish, so it was smart to keep holding hands. And Jason found himself reluctant to give it up.

It was an easy illusion to give into.

He squeezed Danny’s hands and he turned his head to look at him, smiling like this was a real date and not one of his odd jobs. Jason nodded towards the bumper cars and Danny’s grin turned into feral delight as he dragged him in the new direction. It was so easy to pretend Jason was just here to have fun with a friend who was maybe just a bit more.

That was something he could have had maybe. If he hadn’t been Robin. If he hadn’t died and come back wrong. If he wasn’t a former crime lord just trying to find his footing with a family he wasn’t sure wanted him and not just the dead boy he’d been.

But for just a little while he could pretend.

Until Danny turned out to actually know he was supposed to kill him, until everything crashed and burned like usual, he could allow himself a little fun.

Like ignoring every sign saying the bumper cars were not meant for driving into each other. The bored teen operator certainly didn’t care to uphold that rule. The bumper car ride was a war zone, a giant free for all and yet Jason managed to have only eyes for Danny. He was a tricky driver to catch. Jason had no idea how he managed to maneuver the car like that, it was verging on supernatural.

They were both laughing when they exited their cars after Jason had finally managed to bump into him proper instead of the earlier glancing blows.

“Remind me to call you if I ever need a getaway driver.”

Danny snorted knocking their shoulders together. “Only if I get part of the cut.”

I’ll give you more than a cut, Jason was about to say, but thankfully didn’t. Because what did that even mean? Instead he knocked his shoulder back.

They continued on towards another ride, a small rollercoaster, and as they queued Danny started telling him about how his dad’s driving was so infamous in his hometown that the local news included a segment to warn for it when he was on the roads. Because of that nobody had wanted to give Danny driving lessons and that’s why technically he didn’t have a license, but he’d once landed a space shuttle, so that should count for something. The story verged on so impossible it had to be true, but Jason was sure if a civilian had actually landed a space shuttle it would have been all over the news or at least known among superheroes - it was entertaining nonetheless.

Jason wasn’t sure when they’d started holding hands again only noted the absence when Danny left him by a bench several rides later with stern instructions to protect the princess with his life, aka the unicorn plushie.

The lights had flickered on a while ago and bathed the darkening grounds in multicolored lights. Jason leaned back relaxing against the bench. Taking in the lights and the happy atmosphere as people passed him by. There were a few people who pointed and snickered as they walked by, but clearly the unicorn plushie was just as good as Danny to convince people he was just a guy in a costume.

“It’s a pretty good costume.”

Jason turned his head to find a man with a superman shirt had stopped. He stayed silent waiting for him to elaborate. He obviously wanted to, there was something in his drawl.

“The casual look is pretty well put together while remaining recognizably Red Hood.”

“But-“ somehow there was a but- “if you were actually from Gotham you’d know that the real helmet is matte and the brow section is more slanted giving it an angrier expression.”

Jason stared incredulously at the man in the Superman shirt accusing him of not being a Gothamite. Never mind the helmet thing, that was just ridiculous but accusing him of not being a Gothamite, now that was an insult he wouldn’t be taking. Jason stood up to his full six feet and saw the way the man shrunk as he realized he might have made a mistake.

“There you are, babe,” Danny inserted himself smoothly into the situation snaking an arm around his waist and pressing close. It was distracting. “Come on let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Jason snorted as he let Danny move them forward. He didn’t need the intervention, he wouldn’t have attacked the man or anything.

He couldn’t help but pull them to a stop however as they passed him.

“Your information is outdated, this is the current helmet.” He spoke lowly and ominously only made more ominous by the voice modulation.

The man eep’ed and scrambled to get away.

They watched him go with no small bit of amusement.

“I thought we agreed to keep it on the down low.”

Jason shrugged, “he asked for it, besides you said it yourself, nobody will believe him.”

“Alright then.” Danny left the place beneath Jason’s arm, he had only a moment to feel bereft however until his hand was grabbed again and pulled in the direction of the parking lot. “Speaking of proof, do you mind me taking a selfie of us so I can prove I took you out?”

Jason frowned. “I thought you said cameras didn’t work around you.” “They don’t, I’ve had to modify it to be able to take any pictures.”

“You gonna tell me what kind of meta ability you have?”

Danny chuckled. He pulled their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to Jason’s scarred knuckles. Jason was so distracted by the action he almost didn’t hear the, “I like you Hood, but that isn’t a first date conversation.”

There was a pause in their conversation as Jason contemplated the absurd idea of there ever being a second date, the fact that this one was nearly over and how he’d actually had a lot of fun.

“So, selfie?”

“Uh sure.”

Danny juggled the white plastic bag that Jason only noticed now onehanded as he pulled out his phone. It was a broad phone with actual buttons and Jason would believe it was modified alright. Danny smiled and leaned close as he raised his hand, a small flash went off and Danny looked the picture over in satisfaction.

“What’s with the bag?”

“Huh, oh this is food. Our next stop, if you’re still willing, is the ice rink, but I figured we could take a break on the roof and eat back to back or something, what with the whole-” he indicated the helmet by waving a hand in front of his face.

So it wasn’t over yet. Not if Jason wanted to continue. It was an easy out, Jason could just chose to drive Danny to wherever he wanted to be dropped off and he could go home and still make it easily in time for patrol - or he could prolong the evening.

Jason popped open the compartment under the seat of his bike and took the warm bag of food from Danny to put in as he considered. Danny had already put on the extra helmet.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jason could practically hear the smile in his voice even if he couldn’t see it through the opaque helmet.

“Okay,” he confirmed.

The small fist pump was kinda adorable. So first part of the date, it was getting a bit long so I cut it in two, but hey that's the only reason I could even upload it. Jason is in trouble, he's just not quite realizing it yet XD I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the story, so please continue to share &lt;3

Subscribe to the masterpost here Next

[winterspiderpurrs]

Bucky chuckled at the remark Steve just said, taking a drag from his cigarette. It's a thing they both do while in the tower. They always stand on their own balconies and catch up.

He was about to speak when the balcony door slid open.

A sleepy " Babe?" came from the doorway.

Bucky turned his head to glance over his shoulder, and he smiled at the sight that greeted him.

A half asleep, Peter, wearing only his large henley, was slowly stumbling his way over. Only one eye partly cracked open to see the other still closed. Peter moves stand behind Bucky and presses his face into his back, wrapping both his arms around his waist.

"Come to bed. I need cuddles."

" Yeah? That's what they call it these days?"

Peter snorts a little and squeezes a small hug, giving Bucky's back a couple of kisses.

" I can give you wild ride in the morning. But I wanna cuddle with you tonight. It's too quiet without you. "

" Aw, Doll. You feelin' soft tonight and want pillow talk?"

Peter laughs a little and pulls away from Bucky to head back inside.

" That line might have worked back in your day but not on me. I'm tired, and I need your snoring to put me to sleep. "

" I don't snore,"

" Sure babe, don't be too long. Night Steve."

" Uh.. night Peter."

The door slides shut again, and Bucky frowns at it before looking back at Steve.

" I don't snore."

Steve raises his hands up in an ' I don't know ' gesture.

" You snored before the war... maybe you're just relaxed enough to... snore again."

" Shut it, punk. If anyone snores, it's you."

" Well, uh... 'babe' when did this happen? Does Tony know?"

Bucky points at Steve after putting his cigarette out.

" Not a word."

And then he opens the sliding door to his room and just as quietly closes it behind him. Steve is left alone on his own balcony, staring at the spot. Bucky just was out.

" Shit "

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."

[pascalpvnk]

first few dates

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: a late night grocery trip isn’t usually that exciting, unless you crush a carton of eggs on the cutest man in the store…

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, strangers to lovers, swearing, location and ages not specified (imo joel is in his 30s renaissance era), no mention of sarah, sex on first date, insecurity, food & alcohol consumption, reader makes chicken alfredo (so sorry to my restrictive diet baddies, it’s one of the only things I can cook 😞), smut x2 (dubcon due to alcohol consumption but consensual, truck sex, fingering, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, handsy joel, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie)/(reader wears lingerie and a dress, body worship, oral (f receiving), one spank, thigh and butt biting & marks, joel “claiming” reader, allusions to more sex after scene), no use of y/n, half self beta’d, half by @mrsswilliams (thank you pookie ily)

a/n: this is a very self indulgent piece so take it with a grain of salt. don’t perceive the date part please 😭. i hope you enjoy! dividers by @saradika-graphics

masterlist

Fluorescent lights beat against your corneas in the somewhat vacant corner shop. The occasional scanner beep sounded from across the store. You scoured the aisles, ticking off items from your list left and right. The time was flying as your cart piled up and you made record time while shopping.

You picked up a half dozen eggs, opening them to make sure none of them were broken or cracked. Upon the first look, they seemed perfectly fine. You inspected each one individually as you made your way back to your cart. 

You weren’t expecting him at all when you ventured out into the night for a procrastinated grocery trip.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed as you bumped into something solid, causing clattering chaos. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You looked up at what, or rather who, you bumped into. You were met with a shocked man, his puppy brown eyes melting the thick ice protecting your heart. His hand was light on your forearm, steadying yours and his balance. He wasn’t quite able to stop himself from knocking over a bin of DVDs on display.

Your eyes landed on the huge egg yolk stain on his shirt, the eggs that missed splattered on the ground. Of course he was wearing a light colored shirt, just your luck.

Regret showered over you. Not only did you disturb this beautiful stranger, you left a giant stain on his once clean shirt and knocked over a display all over the place.

“You a’right?” He simply asked, knocking the breath out of your lungs with two words. The deep timbre and twang of his voice sent your head in a spiral.

“I’m fine, I’m so sorry,” you repeated, picking up the mess of movies you made. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“S’alright, accidents happen,” he chuckled, helping you with said mess. Fuck, his eyes were pretty. The corners crinkled with his laughter and the deep chocolate hue his irises held. Everything about him looked so good. And he was unconditionally kind?

You couldn’t feel more embarrassed.

Once everything was picked up and replaced as it was before, he offered you another friendly smile as well as his hand.

“Joel,” he grinned, his hand enveloping yours in a warm handshake. You offered the same sentiment of your name, holding onto his hand for a little too long.

“Well Joel, once again I’m very sorry. I wish I could make it up to you…I kinda ruined your shirt,” you fully cringed at the mess on his light colored Henley…which accentuated his muscles deliciously…but that wasn’t the point.

“I have plenty of stained shirts, darlin’, no need to sweat it. But hey, maybe you could buy me a beer sometime,” he suggested, a bashful expression on his face. A blush bloomed across the apples of his cheeks and on his neck before disappearing down his collar.

Eyes. He can see where your eyes are staring, you reminded yourself.

“Absolutely,” you smiled softly. You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as his face lit up. “I can’t tonight…but I can give you my number and we can figure something out.”

After exchanging numbers, you parted ways from Joel with a stupid grin on your face. You turned back for a moment to see him, catching his gaze as he was doing the same.

Fuck the dating apps, fuck the set ups. This was your moment, and you were going to take it by the reins and ride off into the sunset.

You almost talked yourself out of it. The day after you bumped into and made a fool of yourself to Joel, he texted you and asked to make plans for Friday. He initiated it. It was so refreshing to be asked out instead of doing the asking for once.

You arrived about ten minutes early, scoping out the pub from your car. It was only seven o’clock, but the sky was pitch black, a couple stars illuminating through the atmosphere. Clouds rolled across the sky, an impending snow storm creeping over you.

A small pickup rolled across the parking lot, stopping in a spot away from the entrance. Right on time. His mop of dark curls appeared first, then his broad shoulders which were impossibly broader with his winter coat. The sound of your car door closing had his head whipping around, a goofy smile plastered on his lips as he made his way over to you with his hands in his pockets. 

“Evenin’,” the southern man grinned. “Hope you weren’t waitin’ here too long.”

Joel greeted you with a welcoming hug, warmth radiating from him even through the bitter cold of the evening. His skin emanated a freshly showered scent, accentuated by the woody aroma of his cologne. It wasn’t overpowering or headache inducing, just perfect. 

He led you two inside the bar with a timid hand on the small of your back and a lopsided grin. Was he nervous too?

“Hey, Miller!” The bartender announced happily as you stepped into the inviting environment. The man caught your eye and gave a small wave, welcoming you two into his tavern.

“How’s it going, Rob?” Joel beamed. “We’re gon’ do two beers. My usual and….”

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” you stated, smiling politely at the bartender. 

You turned towards the card reader, but Joel slipped his card to Rob to start a tab before you even had a chance to reach for yours.

“Hey!” You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “It was supposed to be on me for ruining your shirt.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I can’t let a beautiful lady pay on a first date,” he crooned, removing his debit card as it prompted him. “That is…if this is a date.”

Oh that cheeky bastard.

“Yes,” you smiled bashfully, thanking the bartender as he passed over your beverages.

Joel led you to a booth towards the back of the bar and took a seat across from you. It was very evident that both of you were nervous. 

“So,” he started, trailing off of the word and tapping his fingers on the table. God, small talk is the worst.

“I gotta admit, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out so I’m a little rusty,” Joel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. 

“S’okay, we can figure it out together, huh?” You offered a sweet smile, wanting to break the tension. “Hmm…what’s your favorite movie, and do you think you could star in it?”

Joel huffed a chuckle, tilting his head in thought. 

“Curtis and Viper 2,” he smiled. “But I probably couldn’t star in it. M’not badass like those guys. My only skills are hammerin’ ‘n drinkin’.”

“Aw come on, don’t sell yourself short,” you chuckled. “What do you like to do besides hammering and drinking?”

A couple rounds later, you and Joel were giggling with one another and bumping your shoes under the table. You felt like a bubbly teen again with him, he was already bringing out the best in you. But along with feeling like a bubbly teenager, you also felt like a horny teenager.

His hands were the main culprit, engulfing his beer bottle like it was a baby bottle. His thick digits tapped the table, scratched his beard, mussed up his hair. After the third drink, you couldn’t even pretend you weren’t staring.

“Where’d ya go, hm?” He spoke softly, his amber eyes twinkling under the lowlight above the booth. His skin was flushed from the alcohol. 

“Sorry,” you snickered, looking out the window. “Do you wanna get out of here? It just started snowing.”

Joel turned toward the window, watching the flakes fall from the sky for a moment. He sighed slightly, but you didn’t miss it. You didn’t want this to end either.

He collected the empty bottles and brought them to the bar and closed out, leaving a few bills in the tip jar. The staff waved you both goodnight as Joel slipped your coat back over your shoulders. 

Snowflakes fluttered from the sky, the beginnings of frost coating the vehicles. Your hand was stolen from your side, fingers interlocking with Joel’s as he walked you through the lot.

“You okay to drive?” Concerned laced his brows. You could write an essay about how much of a gentleman he had been. 

“Yeah…but I don’t wanna go yet,” you admitted coyly, stepping in front of him and grabbing his other hand as well. A smirk grew across his lips as you dragged him past your car.

“Where d’ya wanna go, darlin’?”

“Anywhere…or nowhere. As long as you’re there.”

A glint of mischief shined in his eyes as you approached his truck. He slid his hands in your back pockets and pulled you closer to him. 

“Sounds like a bargain to me, baby,” he bit his bottom lip, a smirk playing across it as his cheeks flushed a rosy hue. The fresh snow in his hair created a pretty halo effect, making him look even more beautiful than before. 

Your lips locked in what had started as a gentle, warm kiss that quickly turned passionate and hot. Sparks were flying and teeth were clashing. Joel had you pinned to his truck with his thigh slotted between your legs, hands making themselves at home as he explored over your clothes. A groan emitted from his chest as your hips ground down on his leg and fingers tangled in his curly locks. 

He reluctantly peeled his lips and hands away to dig his keys out of his front pocket. Your lips landed on his neck as he fumbled with his key trying to get it in the lock. Once he succeeded, he opened the driver’s door and folded his seat forward. Before you knew it, you were in his cramped backseat with him as he made quick work of all of the layers you were wearing.

Clothes were thrown anywhere away from you, lips attacking one another hungrily until you were both stripped of everything but your undergarments. His big, rough hands palmed against you, your tits, waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere his heart, or rather his cock, desired.

“Fuck wait,” he panted, putting his slightly trembling hands on either side of your face to catch your attention. Your wide, doe eyed expression caused his cock to twitch against your covered cunt. “I don’t have a condom, we-”

“I don’t care,” you sighed, pushing past his barrier to kiss him once more. “I need you.”

A curse and the lord’s name in vain slipped through his swollen pout. He adjusted himself under you as he sat with his back to the door and his legs spread down the expanse of the backseat.

“Wan’ these pretty tits in my mouth while you ride me, pretty girl,” he grumbled, kneading your ass under his giant palms. A pathetic whine escaped you as he used it as leverage to grind your pussy over his lap, your arousal seeping through your panties and spreading over the fabric of his boxers. His hand wrapped under your ass and slipped under your cotton underwear before sliding easily through your soaked folds to your clit. The calluses on his fingertips created a titillating friction.

“So fucking wet for me, darlin’,” he slurred. “Pussy’s begging to be filled, hm? Sure you can take it, beautiful?”

You nodded frantically as your hot breath fanned over his face. The window behind Joel’s head began to fog over as you panted near the glass. 

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, Joel pulled your panties to the side. The winter air pierced your skin, drawing your attention to how much arousal was dripping from you. No man had pulled that much from you, let alone before he even touched your pussy. 

His pointer finger prodded at your entrance as your body slowly welcomed him in. In comparison to your fingers, his were much larger and thicker, slowly stretching you out with each pump.

“Christ, you’re so tight ‘round my fingers, baby. Gonna feel so good on my cock,” he rasped as he added a second finger to the mix. You were tumbling towards your high the moment his thumb found your clit, a string of profanities and ‘pleases’ pouring from you between moans.

“C’mon, come for me,” he grunted. “Take whatcha want.”

His other hand unclipped your bra quickly before he palmed your breast and pinched your peaked nipple between his fingertips. Your head fell back with pleasure, the crown of it brushing against the roof of his truck. Moans and whines poured from you as he worked you over the edge expertly, like he’d known you for years. 

Folding forwards, your sweat slick forehead landed on the cool window beside his head. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulling them in deeper as your orgasm convulsed your body.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love that,” he grumbled into your ear, extending your pleasure with his voice alone. “I’m not done with ya, gorgeous.”

He made quick work of his briefs, exposing his thick shaft. You couldn’t help but gawk at it as you sat against his thighs, resting it on your stomach. It reached up past your belly button. It certainly was proportionate to the rest of him, simply big.

“Still think you can take it, sweet thing?” He purred, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “We can stop.”

Your hand wrapped around his length, pumping it slowly and spreading his precum over the tip.

“I wanna try,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. His uneven breaths hit your face, Joel encouraging you to continue with a nod. 

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled, tilting his head up and bumping his nose against yours. His lips met your parted pair with a content hum as you continued stroking him languidly.

“Spit on my cock, baby. Get it nice and ready for you,” he mused, pushing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Saliva pooled to the front of your mouth. You pursed your lips and let it fall right onto the tip, spreading it down with your palm. His head fell back, thunking the window slightly with a ‘fuck me’.

He placed his right hand on your hip, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. The exchange should’ve been awkward in the cramped space, but it felt perfect as he swiped the tip through your slick folds. It nudged your entrance, breaching the hole slowly as he let you take the lead. He supported your shaking legs solely with his arm strength, allowing you to ease down slowly. The stretch was a mix of pain and pleasure, enough for you to see stars.

“God, baby,” he panted, snapping you back to reality. “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good ‘round me.”

You finally were able to get fully settled down on his lap. His hands roamed once more, setting your skin ablaze as his palms skated on their path. The sensation caused your cunt to flutter around him, squeezing him tight. A groan escaped his throat into your collarbone.

“Can’t fuck you properly if you do that. Gon’ come like a damn teenager,” he huffed with a smile. He kissed you feverishly, gripping your ass as leverage so he could guide you. He pushed and pulled your body against his, back and forth, back and forth. 

Your hands found purchase on his chest, hairs sparsely scattered on the taut skin. You dragged them down his torso with your nails delicately scraping him.

“Christ,” he hummed against your mouth. “Where’ve you been my whole life? So fuckin’ pretty…perfect f’me.”

He shifted the two of you further into the seat, granting you more room to lean down on him. Your hips rose and fell steadily against his, the drag of his heavy cock stimulating spots you didn’t know you had. Each time he bottomed out in you, your clit ground against the patch of curls right on his pubic bone. It was a beautiful dance, as if you’d been lovers in a previous life. His body melded so perfectly with yours, meeting your hips perfectly, holding you perfectly, touching and kissing you oh so perfectly. 

“Lean forward, baby,” Joel panted as he wedged his hands under your thighs. He almost slipped from the warmth of your pussy, but he stopped you right where he wanted you. You buried your face into his shoulder as he buried into your chest, flicking his tongue against the peaked bud of your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting his lips wrap around the sensitive flesh.

Joel’s thighs tensed as he planted his feet firmly on the seat. His hips pushed up into yours carefully, your hot breath directly fogging the window. Your back arched, head hitting the ceiling and chest right in Joel’s face. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, his jet black irises staring straight at your tits.

Your hand shot up to the window to steady yourself as the speed of his thrusts doubled. What a triple threat he was, pistoning his cock into you, abusing your nipples with his mouth and massaging your clit all at once. The sound of slapping skin and wanton moans filled the rocking truck. You didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, you could only physically care about the man underneath you.

“Joel, m’gonna-” you gasped, his routine faltering as you clenched down on him.

“Fuck, yeah I know, baby. I feel her beggin’. Wan’ you to make a mess f’me,” he hissed between clenched teeth as you whined over him.

Moans were caught in the back of your throat, legs locking up and jaw dropping. With one, two, three more thrusts, your body froze. The only movement came from your fluttering cunt. Bliss completely took over your being as you collapsed against Joel, thighs twitching as you finally found your breath once more.

When you came to your senses, more warmth filled you as Joel came to his. His desperate moans made way to your ears, a breathtaking melody you’d commit crimes to hear again and again.

And you did, without the criminal streak of course.

Each of your following dates ended tangled together, covered in a combination of your own sweat and cum and his own. You were insatiable with this man, as he was with you, christening both his house and your apartment, any surface imaginable.

Around your sixth date, you had something up your sleeve. You had invited him over for a home cooked meal. A silk wrap dress adorned your figure, concealing the prettiest lingerie set you could find while shopping, coincidentally in his favorite color. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted Joel cheerily as you opened the door. Snowflakes were sprinkled across his shoulders and in his hair. Your arms wrapped up and around his neck, pulling him in for a quick, yet passionate kiss. A couple of snow crystals from his mustache melted against your lips, the cold sensation contrasting greatly from his warm skin.

His face lingered near yours, eyes still closed as he took in the aromas of your apartment. You smelled of a rich, warm vanilla, your living room had an aroma of lavender from your candles, and to top it off, the food you were cooking smelled incredible. You swore you could hear his stomach growling. 

“You look so beautiful, darlin’,” he drawled. “Y’smell good too.”

He slid off his jacket, hanging it up on your coat rack. He toed his shoes off on the mat to keep from tracking snow throughout your apartment. All the while his eyes devoured you shamelessly, even after you turned away to return to your kitchen.

“Whatcha cookin’, baby? Smells amazing,” he hummed.

“Chicken alfredo,” you smiled at him, stirring the sauce as the pasta cooked in the boiling water. You picked up some of the water in a ladle and added it to the creamy goodness in your saucepan before straining the noodles.

“Wanted to keep it simple, can’t go wrong with a classic, hm?” You returned the al dente fettuccine back into the pot, removing it from the burner and turning it off. 

Joel’s thick arms wrapped around your middle as he fit himself behind you. He slotted his head on your shoulder, peppering soft kisses along your exposed neck. His hips pressed against you, his half hard length trapped between you both.

“Are you hard?” You giggled, only seeing his dark tuffs of curls in your peripheral. You knew that you looked good but you had barely touched the man for Christ’s sake. 

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled against your supple skin, deeply inhaling your scent. “Smell jus’ like candy, baby. Need a taste.”

“Joel, what are you-” you’re cut off by the warmth of his hands on your thighs, dragging up your skin, skimming over your garter belt, and taking the skirt of your dress with them. His presence next to you dissipated as he sank to his knees.

“Keep doing your thing, I’ll do mine,” he hummed, sucking in a sharp breath through closed teeth as he took in the lace adorning the swell of your ass. His breath was hot on your rear as his fingers ghosted over your panties, putting light pressure against your clothed clit.

“Joel-” you gasped in pleasure, his ministrations drawing a whine from you. “I can’t cook like this.”

He chuckled at your response to his actions and peeked his head out from under your dress to look you in your eyes, his fingers caressing and skimming over your soft skin. 

“But you like it?” he asked, his voice husking and his eyes full of desire as he looked you over. “You like to know just how much I want you?”

He let his eyes slowly drift up to your face, gazing at you with an air of hunger and excitement as you nodded silently. He was going to be the death of you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” he cooed, disappearing once more, planting wet kisses on your ass and sucking your flesh gently as he teased your entrance with his rough middle fingertip. Your grip on the counter surrounding your stove tightened significantly as your head tipped back with pleasure.

His fingers found their way under your panties, hooking into them and pulling them away from your glistening cunt. He dragged his knuckles through your folds a few strokes, stopping at your bundle of nerves to apply just the perfect amount of pressure.

A gasp was caught in your throat, morphing into a strangled moan as he rubbed your pussy and sucked his marks into your skin. 

“Joel-” 

Your impending complaint was cut off with a firm smack to your cheek. He groaned at the rippling flesh, his tongue diving into your slit.

“You gon’ keep complainin’? I can stop,” he muttered, licking against your swollen clit and sucking it between his lips. The only response coming from you were moans and sighs, the sound going straight to Joel’s cock as he continued to lap at your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried. “Please don’t stop, I need it.”

Joel gripped onto the flesh of your thighs hard enough to leave bruises for the next few days to come. Your back arched, pushing yourself against his face harder. His groans vibrated against your pussy, adding to the multitude of sensations he was giving you. 

The swirling pattern between your lips felt different, felt new, felt so fucking good. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you sighed, gripping your fingers into his curls to anchor him where he belonged. “God don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

“I’m just claiming what’s mine,” he grumbled as he continued. A moan escaped you in response as you focused on his tongue lapping at your cunt, licking the same pattern over and over again.

J-O-E-L

“Holy shit,” you panted as his tongue dove into your weeping hole, collecting your arousal before continuing his pattern. “Are you spelling your name?”

“Like I said, darlin’, claimin’ what’s mine,” a growl rumbled in his chest as he went right back to work. His palms laid flush against your ass, squeezing your flesh and stretching it up to get a better view and angle of your pussy. The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter as he alternated between licking and sucking, squeezing and fucking his first two fingers into your heat.

“I’m s’close, please please plea-” you whined, pushing your ass back onto his face as you chased your high.

Joel’s pace was relentless as he curled his fingers into your g-spot, massaging the spongy tissue precisely while sucking your clit between his tongue. The awaiting release almost sent you forward into the hot burner, but you were just able to catch yourself on the cool edge of the stove. Your body trembled as he worked you through the intense climax, lapping your cum as it seeped from you with a content groan.

“You did s’good for me, baby,” he cooed as he rose from his knees. His beard was shining with your arousal, damn near dripping down his chin. He took your face in his palms and kissed you roughly, making sure your tongue was completely coated with your spend.

The stovetop timer blared, signaling that the chicken was ready to be taken out. Joel reached past you blindly to stop the pestering noise. 

“Dinner can wait,” he panted between kisses, drawing a guttural groan from you as he pulled your bottom lip back between his teeth. His hand traveled south to your neck, not applying pressure.

“But Joel,” you whined, thinking about the time you just spent preparing the meal. You had to admit, he was making it incredibly difficult to even care. “It’s gonna be cold.”

“But nothin’,” he spat, pulling at the tie of your dress and watching it spill open. His thumb creeped up to pull on your chin, forcing your mouth open to him. “You have a microwave for a reason. I have something else to eat in the meantime.”

His eyes ran hungrily over your lingerie. The dark blue and white set contrasted beautifully from your skin, making his cock constrict further against his jeans. He quickly turned off the oven, the burners and took the chicken out before gripping your hand.

He had no problem finding your bedroom. Joel went to sleep full and satisfied that night as did you. 

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed <3

[becausebuckley]

you warm me up (inside and out) | buddie | getting together | 3.4k

after a shift leaves buck tired and shivering, eddie takes him home.

When Buck steps out of the station’s shower, he’s still shivering. It’s been a long shift. Not necessarily a bad one — no major calls, no losses, time for meals at mostly-normal times — but certainly draining. The weather really turned for the worse towards the end, and during that final call, the one that pushed them an hour into overtime, Buck had spent a solid forty minutes standing on a roof in the pouring rain, holding an umbrella over Eddie’s head as he freed a teenager from some sort of metal construction thing — look, Buck knows many things, but the specific terminology of construction elements on apartment rooftops isn’t something he’s done a deep dive on just yet, okay — they’d gotten stuck in on a dare. The teenager was fine, only embarrassed, and Eddie stayed mostly dry. Buck, on the other hand, is pretty sure his bones are wet by now. And they’re not getting dry anytime soon, either. It’s not like he can blow dry his skeleton, after all. That would be way too convenient. “Hey,” Eddie calls as Buck enters the locker room, “wow, that shower didn’t help much, did it?” Buck shakes his head. He’s already wearing his regular clothes, jeans and a shirt, but he opens his locker to grab his spare hoodie, cursing when he doesn’t see it. He must’ve forgotten to replace it at some point. “Here.” A pile of fabric appears in Buck’s vision. When he doesn’t reach for it immediately, a hand shoves it against his chest. Buck grabs it on reflex. He unfolds the fabric, his fingers clumsy with cold. As it unravels, he recognizes the familiar black of an LAFD hoodie. But it’s not his own. This one is a little more worn, and as he turns it over in his hands, he notices the telltale lack of a coffee stain on the left sleeve — the one he’d accidentally spilled on his own hoodie months ago. It’s Eddie’s. Eddie’s hoodie, the one he really only wears at home, always preferring henleys or thin sweaters outdoors. Eddie’s hoodie, the one that Buck knows for a fact is oversized on him, purposefully ordered a size too big, one of the few comfort items he’s had for years. Eddie’s hoodie, and he’s just giving it to Buck like it’s no big deal.

read the full fic on ao3!

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

When a quiet New Year's Eve at home turns into something more, a simple evening of celebration becomes a whirlwind of passion and mischief. Inspired by @scoonsalicious' characters Pocket and Bucky Barnes and the following instagram reel.

This story is written with the full support of @scoonsalicious, who has kindly given me permission to bring her beloved characters Pocket and Bucky to life in this fan fic of her fan fic.

Word count: 1k

A/N: If anyone hasn't read @scoonsalicious' story Unwanted, I suggest you get on it. Stat! Happy New Year, bestie!

The New York skyline glittered through the apartment’s expansive windows, the dark sky littered with multicolored explosions in preparation for the upcoming occasion. Inside, the living room was warm and cozy, Christmas decorations giving the room a festive feel. You were sitting cross-legged on one side of the couch, with one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate spiked with a very healthy dose of Baileys.

It was close to midnight and Bucky was sprawled across the other side of the couch watching you tapping at a tablet. He was wearing a dark Henley and those sweatpants which hung at the perfect place on his hips and left very little to the imagination. You liked to think of them as his seduction pants. You were pretty comfortable in your oversize Stark Industries hoodie and booty shorts, while your pink fuzzy socks kept your feet warm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky making faces— his lips twitching, furrowed brows, a small smirk now and again, his gaze flicking between you and the television while he flipped through every television channel available to mankind as though he was enduring some kind of punishment.

“Any luck?” you asked without looking up from your screen.

“Nope,” he replied, pounding the same button on the remote over and over. “Is it some kind of requirement for all New Year’s Eve shows to be either obnoxiously loud or painfully boring?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a smirk.

“You gonna work all night?” he asked with a pout. “Not very festive of Stark. Or is this punishment because I didn’t want to go to his party?”

You smiled, reaching out to tickle his toes. “Just tweaking some Stark satellite code. I told Tony I’d do it. Don’t want the world to be unprotected because we were all celebrating.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “But this is supposed to be our downtime?”

“I know, Buck.” You clicked off the tablet and placed it to the side. “See, no more work. You have my full attention now, Barnes. What’re our plans for New Year’s?”

Bucky shrugged petulantly, still mad that you had chosen to do Tony a favor over being bored with him.

You grabbed his foot and wiggled it from side to side. “Come on, I’m all yours now. How about we watch the ball drop in Times Square. Pretty traditional. Fireworks, confetti, overhyped countdown…”

Bucky didn’t even look up from the channel surfing, letting out an unimpressed grunt. “I’d rather wrestle a grizzly bear than deal with that chaos. What do people get out of this ridiculous tradition? It’s slow, pointless and everyone just pretends they’re having a good time.”

You raised an eyebrow, while stirring your hot chocolate with a candy cane, slowly putting it in your mouth and sucking on the end. “You’ve got very strong opinions for someone who’s never actually done it.”

The deadpan look in Bucky’s blue eyes as he turned to you, made you laugh out loud. “Why does anyone need to experience this hell? Freezing weather, drunk strangers, waiting for hours for what? That thing moves as slow as molasses.”

“Wow! Slow down there, New Year’s Grinch.”

“Not a grinch,” he countered. “I just have higher standards and I didn’t really want to go outside.”

“Well I was just suggesting we watch it on television,” you laughed at Bucky’s embarrassed expression. “Did you know some places drop other things instead of a ball?”

That got his attention. “Like what?”

“Let’s see,” you began, counting off on your fingers. “Idaho drops a potato. Georgia drops a peach. California does a grape. And my personal favorite, in Tucson, Arizona, they drop a Taco Bell sign.”

Bucky blinked in astonishment. “A Taco Bell sign? Seriously?” he laughed.

You nodded, grinning. “I feel like that one has the most energy. Can you imagine? Midnight, fireworks, and the crowd going wild for tacos.”

Bucky shook his head but he was still smiling. “Fine, I’ll give you that. Better than a disco ball.”

“Okay,” you said, setting down your mug with a smirk. “Since we’re not into Times Square or Taco Bell. You’re looking for something higher paced, so how about we start our own tradition?”

“Oh?” Bucky raised his eyebrows with curiosity. “What did you have in mind?”

You leaned back, stretching your arms up over your head before placing them behind your head and stretching out your legs. “Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to mull things over. “Something a little more simple. Champagne. No crowds. Just you and me.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin that sent heat pooling into your stomach. “I’m listening.”

“Oh are you now?”

Bucky shuffled closer, his hand snaking over your shoulders as he leaned toward you. His voice had taken on that warm, gravelly tone that made your heart flutter. “Yeah, sweets. You’ve definitely got my attention.”

“Well,” you said, leaning toward him, your faces now just inches apart. “Midnight’s coming fast, Barnes. Instead of watching the ball drop… how about we make my panties drop at midnight?”

“Now that is a tradition I can get behind,” he said, his eyes gleaming with roguishness.

Laughing you moved forward until your noses brushed against each other. “Good, because midnight’s in ten minutes, Sarge.”

“You think I need whole ten minutes to get your panties off?”

“Confident, aren’t we?” You rolled your eyes.

“Just stating facts,” he murmured, as his fingers brushed against your thigh, sending a thrill up your spine.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his just enough to tease him. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you into his lap in one smooth motion. “We sure will,” he said, the challenge clear in his voice as the seconds ticked closer to midnight.

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased.

He had every right to be, he had you stripped of your panties within seconds and was thrusting inside you within minutes.

“Have I ever told you how brilliant you are, sweets?”

“Yeah, but I won’t mind hearing it again.”

The sound of fireworks outside blurred into the background as Bucky had you screaming his name on the stroke of midnight.

[chvoswxtch]

hi!!!!!!

so excited for movie night!!!! <3

could I possibly have a romcom (directors cut edition) with ftws!bucky pls!!

something along the lines of, "all you had to do was ask," if yk what I mean 😏😙😇

hi nonnie!!! welcome!!

fatws bucky has my whole ass heart. I don't know what they did to him in thunderbolts and i'm scared so i'm gonna pretend like that's not happening rn and we will go back to a simpler time <3

unfortunately since you're on anon, I can't do the directors cut, but I will give you some delicious bucky visuals and set the scene for your imagination to run wild ;)

headcannon below the cut

cruel intentions starring bucky barnes

bucky barnes is a shithead. if you don't believe me, I implore you to watch the entirety of fatws and point out one time he isn't being a sassy, snarky, taunting lil fucker (and we love him for it, i adore my bitchy lil grumpy super solider)

also the man has been through it so I think he's earned the right to be bitchy

being a super soldier means that everything about bucky is enhanced (😉) which includes his senses. now he's not quite at matt murdock level of heightened senses, but he can tell certain things about people (think cap in the elevator with the hydra agents clocking that shit from a mile away). he's also learned to read body language as a former assassin

combine all that with how well bucky knows you, he can always tell what kind of mood you're in very easily

so when you're frustrated but too stubborn to admit it, he knows. oh, he knows. and he's patient enough to get you to break and give into him

lets say you two had a petty argument, and now you're giving him the silent treatment. but you haven't seen each other in over a week, and he knows you want him just as much as he wants you. but instead of being the mature 107 year old man he is and trying to talk it out with you, he decides to be a teasing lil shit instead

suddenly your car needs an oil change and bucky is out in the driveway wearing that slutty lil blue henley that makes his eyes look so pretty, and he's got only one of the buttons buttoned, and the sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, and the shirt looks like it's been washed and dried one too many times bc you can see every muscle in his back and shoulders flex when he moves

and then he decides to silently join you in the living room, where you're still ignoring him, and he sits down right across from you and spreads those thick ass thighs in a way that makes your mouth water bc why are his jeans so fucking snug like that and he's just calmly reading a book not making a sound or saying a word with no expression on his face, but internally he's smirking bc he can feel your eyes on him

every room you migrate to, bucky seems to appear in with some reason or excuse, shredding your patience to a paper thin strand that is a breath away from snapping

the stubborn part of you wants to be strong and continue ignoring him but the weak part of you can't even remember why you're upset and does it even matter when he looks like that?

the last straw is when he saunters into the bedroom in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and he drops down to start doing push ups. he's grunting not bc he's straining himself, he's not even breaking a sweat, but bc he knows it'll make you think of him grunting in a different way with those dog tags dangling deliciously from his neck

finally having enough, you slam your book shut and toss it carelessly aside on the bed before stomping over towards him. bucky glances up over his shoulder at you with an expression that was almost innocent, except for that stupid smirk spreading over his mouth. as soon as you're within reach, bucky suddenly turns over onto his back and grabs your leg, tugging you down on top of him with a cocky grin (you know the one)

"now that wasn't so hard, was it? all you had to do was ask, doll."

sam wilson is truly god's strongest soldier bc he puts up with bucky's attitude and ^that??? i'd fold like a lawn chair in a hurricane

[dangerpronebuddie]

Throwing it back at you :)

#78 “That’s my shirt. So is that..wait?”

Look look look she finished one!!!

“But he's agreed to talk, that's a good thing,” Buck reassures Eddie from where he sits on the bed, “helping” him unpack at the rent house in El Paso. The key to Eddie’s house and the ticket back to LA burn in his pocket.  “I know, I just…” Eddie sighs and keeps rifling through his suitcase. “I just wish I could talk to him without mom always butting in.” “So take him to the lake- is that my shirt?”  Eddie freezes where he stands, teal henley clutched in his hand. He stares at it, almost like he’s hoping he’ll develop laser vision and disintegrate the incriminating fabric.  Buck looks into Eddie’s open suitcase. Mixed in with Eddie’s henleys and flannels are no less than a dozen shirts belonging to Buck. “That’s my shirt. So is that… wait?” Eddie spins to face the closet, searching for a hanger despite there being one right in front of him on the rack.  Buck stands and reaches around Eddie, handing him the hanger in question. “Eddie… why did you bring half of my wardrobe here with you?” “It… must’ve gotten tossed in with everything else,” Eddie shrugs, way too casually. “I was kind of in a rush.” “Eddie, you pack like I inventory the ambulance,” Buck points out. Sometimes, Buck thinks Eddie is more meticulous than Buck ever thought about being.  Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I wanted to ask you to stay, but I couldn’t, so I… made sure I had at least a part of you here.” Buck’s breath hitches in his chest. In the weeks leading up to the move, Buck had dreaded the goodbye. The sad, pitiful smiles and hugs that always mean more to Buck than the person leaving, the ‘take care of yourself’ that always leaves the ‘because I won’t’ unsaid.  But Eddie was different.  Of course Eddie was different.  He didn’t settle on a house until Buck approved. He convinced Buck to stay at the Diaz house while he was gone. He asked Buck to come to El Paso to help him unpack.  Like he didn’t want to leave Buck behind. “Eddie…” “I know,” Eddie says, ducking his head. “It was selfish. You can take them hom-” “Eddie,” Buck cuts in desperately. He takes the shirt and hanger and tosses them onto the bed so he can turn Eddie to face him. “Ask me to stay.” Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t, Buck, you know I can’t.” “I know you’re not letting yourself,” Buck persists. “And I know that if I go home alone, that house isn’t going to be enough for me. Is keeping a few of my shirts I hardly wear enough for you?” Eddie looks at his suitcase, at the shirt crumpled on the bed, at his hands fisted in Buck’s hoodie. “No,” he admits in a whisper. He shakes his head again. “Buck, you’d hate me if-” “I couldn’t,” Buck says, so positive in that fact there’s no way Eddie couldn’t believe him. “Ask me.” “You’d have to go back and get your other things,” Eddie reasons. “I couldn’t take everything of yours with me.” “You’ve got what’s most important,” Buck says softly. He doesn’t mean the clothes. Eddie smiles, that goofy way he does when he’s teasing Buck. “Really? I didn’t know you liked that white hoodie all that much.” Buck gapes at him. “You’ve had that all these years?!” Eddie chuckles. “Maybe for longer than I realized,” he says softly, pulling Buck closer.  Buck cups his face in his hands. “Maybe,” he says against his lips.

Send me a number!

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Start from the beginning on ao3, or read today's entry below.

Day 4: My Heart is Racing in a Weird Way

Tommy wasn't sure what was happening as Buck led him through the bar. Eyes lingered on them as they passed by each table until they reached a door that read Employees Only.

“Evan, what are we doing?” Tommy asked, scooting in closer to his boyfriend as people passed behind him.

“Hang on, you'll see.”

Buck knocked on the door and waited, glancing back at Tommy with a nervous smile.

“Did you get a job here?” Tommy asked. “Babe, are you hurting for money? I can-”

Buck pulled Tommy to his side and patted his chest. “Tommy, relax. Let's just... just wait.”

After waiting a few more seconds, the door opened just a crack. A man wearing far too much glitter, in Tommy's opinion, peered out. “Password.”

Buck grinned. “Paradise.”

The man eyed them both, then opened the door and let them inside, leading them down a hall.

“No touching unless given permission, although looking is highly recommended,” the man began to recite like he was giving a college tour, “use condoms, clean up your mess. No kink shaming. Sharing is caring.” He opened a door at the end of the hallway and moved to the side to let them through. “Have fun, newbies.”

“Ev- Evan, what are-”

“I do have a couple rules,” Buck interrupted, moving so he was directly in front of Tommy. “I really don't want anyone else touching you, and I don't want them touching me either.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Tommy mumbled, barely audible over the music and the moans. He cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder. “I don't want that either.”

Buck nodded. “Okay... Okay, good. I guess, um, we should f- find a spot then, right?”

“Um, oh, sorry,” Tommy moved as far into Buck's space as he could as a man in head to toe leather walked behind him with another man following him on a leash. “I, Evan, I don't know if there's any space here.”

“Sure there is!” Buck replied with a nervous laugh. “We don't take up that much space. Come on.”

They continued through the room, and Tommy couldn't help but feel far too overdressed in his blue jeans and black henley. He was sweaty, a bit panicky, and- “Is that... is his whole arm in there?” He froze, eyes wide at the sight of it.

Buck leaned in close to Tommy's ear. “No kink shaming,” he muttered.

“I'm not shaming, I'm impressed... and having some sympathy pains,” he added with a grimace. “Damn, he's going hard. I hope that man has good health insurance.”

Buck tugged at his arm, moving them along. “What about back here? Not too crowded. We c-”

He was cut off by the sound of a whip cracking nearby, followed by a yelp and a moan.

“Oh, Evan, my-” Tommy brought a hand up to his chest, flinching as the whip struck down again, “my heart is racing in a weird way.”

Alarmed, Buck held onto Tommy's arm, looking around until he found an exit. Making his way through the maze of bodies, Buck led them out of the building.

Tommy took the opportunity to take in a deep breath, the cool evening air hitting his face. “Sorry,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, “I know you wanted to do... whatever in there, it's just- that's not really for me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “Tommy, I don't care about any of that stuff. I thought it's what you wanted.”

“Hmm? Evan, why would I want that?”

“The movie!” Buck exclaimed, as though that explained everything.

“The movie? What movie?”

Buck groaned. “The movie we saw a couple weeks ago. They had a scene in the back of a seedy bar where all kinds of kinky shit was happening. You popped a boner in the theater!”

“That's because Cheyenne Jackson did full frontal and I'm human!”

Buck put his hands on his hips. “S- So it didn't have anything to do with the, uh, the chains or the, um, the other stuff?”

“God, no,” Tommy replied with a shake of the head. “I mean, sometimes things can be hot in theory, but it doesn't mean I wanna do it. This, however,” he said, pointing back toward the bar, “scared me more than war.”

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

Tommy held his arms open, waving Buck toward him. Without hesitation, Buck wrapped himself up in Tommy's arms. “Okay, maybe it didn't scare me more than war,” Tommy admitted, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple, “but it did leave me with some phantom pains. Did you see how hard that fist was-”

“I saw, I saw,” Buck interrupted with a shiver. “I know I always say I want to feel you the next day, but I'm not sure I'd want you rearranging my organs like that.”

Tommy laughed, tapping at Buck's side until he leaned back enough for them to look at one another. “You spent the last two weeks researching this place, didn't you?”

“It was the only one with five stars,” Buck whined. “And I wanted to go somewhere that I knew no one would just start touching you, or me.”

“I will say that, in the forty-five seconds we were in there, they were all very respectful,” Tommy admitted. “I just don't think I'm the fuck-you-in-a-room-full-of-people type. I also hated how they were all looking at you like they wanted to eat you.”

“Oh, please!” Buck huffed. “They were looking at you like that, not- not me. I was so close to jabbing some eyes out.”

“I disagree. Not about jabbing eyes, but about where the eyes were focused.”

“Agree to disagree.”

They were silent for a moment. Tommy looked off to the side, lips pursed.

“What is it?” Buck asked.

“Can we just talk about the fact that the place cannot be sanitary? I know they say to clean up after yourself, but God, Evan, there's no way-”

“I know, I know,” Buck soothed, running his hand over Tommy's chest. “I thought about that too.”

Tommy eyed Buck briefly before reaching up and cupping his face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his thumbs stroking Buck's cheek.

“What?”

“Next time you think there's a kink I wanna try out... ask me.”

“You mean you haven't loved my surprises?” Buck joked.

“Oh, they're great,” Tommy answered sarcastically. “I am afraid the next one might actually kill me though.”

With a smile, Buck took hold of Tommy's hands and pulled him away from the wall. “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yeah. Can we get in bed and do none of the things I just witnessed in there?”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “You mean you don't wanna shove your arm so deep inside me you could pull out my heart?”

Tommy shivered. “Evan,” he whined, “I'd almost forgotten about it.”

“Honey, there are some things the mind will never forget,” Buck replied as they reached the truck. “That was absolutely one of them.”